


What Do We Say To The God Of Death?

by Willowbarb



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 23:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19050604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowbarb/pseuds/Willowbarb
Summary: I fought for you, didn’t I?





	What Do We Say To The God Of Death?

In the end, Sandor Clegane chose to die so that Arya Stark would live; that knowledge amused him, since the Hound had already died for her. Few people can die twice to save someone they love; the gods, whose existence Sandor had doubted, gave him the chance of making that double sacrifice, if he chose. And he did so choose.

Riding out from Winterfell, after the vast funeral pyres of those who had died to give Arya the chance to kill the Night King had burned low, he had smiled when she had intercepted him to share the long ride south; he did not trust the cabal of great lords and ladies squabbling over who would take the Iron Throne, and he was pleased to see that neither did she. They had talked about their own and each other’s lives when it pleased them, and been silent in an easy companionship when it pleased them; neither of them was in any hurry for their journey to end.

But day by day Sandor Clegane began to silently rehearse what he must do to prevent Arya trying to kill Cersei Lannister, the last name on her list. Sandor knew, far better than she did, what a city under siege was like. Winterfell was a country cottage by comparison with the sprawling, vast city of Kings Landing.

In such a siege there are no sides, no easy way to tell friends from foe, and Cersei was quite capable of burning Kings Landing to the ground, just as she had destroyed the Sept and everyone in it, and around it.

She would leave Daenerys Targaryen a Pyrrhic victory over a desolate wasteland; no matter how skilled you are with a blade, wildfire will end you.

And that was before you factored in those fucking dragons. 

He seriously considered kidnapping her, getting her to the coast, and aboard a ship bound for anywhere as long as it was nowhere near Kings Landing. And reluctantly abandoned the idea; Euron Greyjoy’s fleet was too great a risk for ordinary traders, who had their ships as far away from Westeros as possible until the final resolution of the war between the queens. 

And as they grew nearer and nearer he concluded that he was going to have to go into Kings Landing with her after all, to protect her. Somewhere along the way something inside him had changed; he had realised that he no longer cared whether his cunt of a brother lived or died.

But he cared a great deal if his cunt of a brother killed Arya as she went for Cersei.

Sandor Clegane had never been good with words, didn’t really know how to start, which was why they had got to the Red Fort itself before he found at least some words to tell her that she should live her life as herself, not as a lady, not as the dutiful deliverer of revenge for her family and her friends, just as herself. To go where she wanted to go, to see what she wanted to see; to be free.

The gods may have helped him out a little with his words; he prayed for it, and the gods knew he needed it, but the knowledge that his cunt of a brother was ready and waiting for anyone going up those steps gave him some sort of eloquence. 

For even Sandor Clegane could not take out the entire Kingsguard, and Arya might insist on fighting with him, and more than likely dying with him, because, though she sneered at honour, she had found the honour within her: the verdict of the heart which had made her walk away from the House of Black and White. 

He blamed it on the time she’d spent with Brienne of Tarth; it was remarkable how Arya had found what had been within her all along, with Brienne helping her to find it. It never occurred to him that Arya might think that Sandor Clegane had helped her to find it too.

But if it took a little pretence - that he didn’t want to live without gaining his revenge on his brother - to persuade Arya that revenge was not worth destroying herself for, then he was happy to lie to her, and did. 

He had never had a child, and never would, but as he watched her walk away he felt a pride in her which he thought might be like that of a father. Perhaps it was the Father himself who had given him the words he needed to alter her path, to urge her towards life, not death. Perhaps not; perhaps the Warrior might have given something to one who had fought so many battles. 

But, as he turned to climb the stairs to meet his death, he echoed Arya‘s thanks to him, this time to the gods. They had given him the chance to die to save Arya once again, and that was a great gift.

Sandor Clegane cherished it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely linked to my story Valar Morgulis


End file.
